BROAD, high yew hedges flank the flowers, and border An old, smooth lawn where, fashioned grimly stiff, Two knights—in close-clipped box—keep ancient order, O'er shaven dragon, hound and hippogriff; And there, When the June air At dusk is cool and fair, And the great roses strengthen on their stalks, Down the long path, beset With heaven-scented, haunting mignonette, The gardeners say, A little grey Ghost-lady walks! I haven't seen her, haven't heard her legend, Pale little shade, only the rumour tells That 'tis her wont to wander to the hedge-end, And vanish near the Canterbury Bells; And so I do not know What sends her to and fro— Murder, may be, or broken heart, or gold. I like to fancy most That she is just some little lady's ghost Who loved her flowers And quiet hours In Junes of old! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GORSE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR by THOMAS HARDY UPON THE CIRCUMCISION by JOHN MILTON SHADOWS IN THE WATER by THOMAS TRAHERNE DRINKING; PARAPHRASED by ANACREON THE CHARWOMAN by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 1. THE MARVELLOUS SEED OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES |